


Blue Bottle

by maivalkov



Series: EngSpaWeek2018 [6]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 11:36:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15773313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maivalkov/pseuds/maivalkov
Summary: As the Ripper roams the streets, and Victorian London falls to chaos, Constable Arthur Kirkland regrets his lowly status. His missions are often petty, and insulting, until he is tasked to board a train, and confront the strangest criminal of them all.





	Blue Bottle

 By the time Big Ben bonged twice, Constable Kirkland had had enough. Already he had broken up a fight in Whitechapel over a basket of fruit, returned a lost child to their parent, and dragged a drunkard off the steps of a nobleman’s house, who insisted it was his castle, and that he must evict whoever lay within.

To top it all off he was then summoned to the train station, where an angry conductor and driver greeted him with bitter words. Shortly after they led him towards their train, complaining about the delay in their schedule, and how they would not make it back home in time for supper.

“I swear, you better sort the cocky bastard out.” Ordered the conductor. His face bore a horrible purple tinge, the telltale sign of an alcoholic, and he showered spit with every word.

“We don’t know where he got on. But he’s got some bottle to ‘im.” The driver added with caution.

“Is he drunk?” Arthur asked, making a mental note of their words.

“Only on ignorance, and a lack of respect for our mighty land. Blasted foreigner.” The conductor spat once again. Needless to say being foreign wasn’t a criminal offense, but Arthur let the matter be. He continued to walk with the men across the station platform, and hopped inside the First Class carriage of the train.

“We’ve got ‘im secured in his cabin. Just down the end.” Informed the driver, as if it weren’t obvious. In front of the door stood a burly man with an impressive moustache, a sailor perhaps, who could easily break Arthur in two over his knee.

When he noticed Arthur’s arrival he surprisingly smiled, rather than nag as the others had, and stepped aside whilst wishing him good luck.

 

* * *

 

 Arthur entered the private booth alone, to the dismay of the conductor. He drew the brown velvet curtains shut for privacy, and plopped himself down on the red cushioned bench. For a minute he appreciated the splendour of the cabin, with its fine wooden interiors, and curled iron luggage rack overhead, then whipped out his notepad and pencil.

“Right. Let’s get this started-” Arthur initiated, then stopped all too soon. Contrary to the impression he had been given, the supposed criminal was a young, attractive man, who eyed Arthur with keen fascination. His clothes were scruffy and stained, and his baker boy cap sat lopsided on his head of dark, soft curls.

“... Afternoon?”

“You can tell the time.” Arthur deadpanned. “I’m impressed.”

“Thank y-”

_“Name?”_

The man blinked, and cocked his head. He did not understand why Arthur was so impatient, but he hoped he would be kinder than the conductor.

“... Antonio.” He answered regardless.

“Full name.” Arthur pressed.

The man hesitated, as if he did not understand, then grinned wide. “Antonio Fernandez Carriedo!”

“Fuck me-” Arthur whispered, furrowing his brows as he attempted to spell it. “I take it you’re Spanish?”

“Yes.” Antonio giggled, watching Arthur struggle. “I should write it?”

Arthur shoved the notepad and pencil his way. “If you insist.”

Antonio did so without complaint, which was more than Arthur could say for most suspects. At a glance he seemed perfectly harmless, and even added a small heart at the end of his name.

“I didn’t ask you to draw.” Arthur sighed, taking back the pad. Despite Arthur's lack of appreciation Antonio glowed with a sugar sweet smile, and tilted his head once more.  Sometimes it was as if he had no clue where he was, or even _who_ he was, and as Arthur asked for his age next he chuckled, and began to fidget in his seat.

“T-Twenty five.”

Arthur quirked a brow, and wrote it down. For reasons unbeknown to him Antonio kept staring his way, then to the window, and his cheeks appeared to become flushed. Perhaps the Spanish police operated differently, he surmised, and shook his head with a heavy breath.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Arthur probed, speaking slowly and clearly for the sake of his excitable company. “On this train, speaking to the police?”

“No.” Antonio replied in earnest. Sure enough his face smacked of confusion, and he rubbed a hand to the back of his neck. “All I have done is ride a train. I got on at a... Brighton, place. I like the sea.”

 _The very start of the line._ Arthur realised with another sigh. He scribbled down notes all the while, ensuring to translate Antonio’s butchered English, and once finished he sat up straight, pitying the man before him.

“You have ridden all the way from Brighton to London, First Class, without a ticket.”

“Yes.” Antonio smiled, as ever. “I have not been on a train before. It was fun.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, suspecting that to be the case. “Even so. You can’t board a train without a ticket.”

Antonio's face turned blank. His lovely green eyes blinked once, then twice, but nothing registered as wrong in his mind. “But I did.”

“I know you did it.” Arthur agreed. “But the point is you _can’t._ ”

“It was easy. I use door to get in-”

“Let me rephrase that.” Arthur intervened, raising a hand to silence Antonio. “You _can_ get on a train without a ticket. But you shouldn’t. You have to pay.”

“Oh.”

Antonio’s features dropped, and he looked to the floor as if he were a wounded animal. “I… I do not have money.”

“I figured.”

“I do not read your language well.” Antonio confessed. Once again he was back to fidgeting, but this time out of worry, rather than embarrassment. “I do not find ticket, or help. But if that man asked nicely, then I would buy one!”

Arthur honestly believed him, and hated the conductor for his arrogance. Poor Antonio was too jumpy and nervous to be lying, and he slipped into frantic Spanish upon realising his terrible mistake. Presumably he had never ventured far beyond his home before then, and had no idea how the world operated.

“I do not want trouble.” He pleaded, looking to Arthur for help. “No one sat here so I took it. I did not know!”

Another solid argument, Arthur accepted. If Antonio struggled to read English, he would not have paid much attention to the First Class signage either. Nevertheless he added it to his notes, and mustered a reassuring expression.

“You must have been scared, when that conductor arrived.”

“I was!” Antonio exclaimed. “Men like to shout here.”

“That we do.” Arthur laughed. “But do not panic. Just tell me the truth, and all will be well.”

“I can explain?”

“Yes.” Arthur nodded with a gentle expression. “Why have you come here?”

With that Antonio calmed, and he drew a deep, steady breath. “I am to live with my brother. We are…” Antonio knitted his brows, trying to find the word. “Our mothers are not the same.”

“You’re half brothers?”

“That!” Antonio piped up, nodding fast. “My mama is Spanish, his is Portuguese. He sells flowers in the city.”

“I should have known…” Arthur gasped, almost dropping his pencil. Antonio had certainly looked familiar, but he had put it down to mere coincidence. “Is his name João, per chance? Long hair, a mole beneath his eye?”

“That’s him!” Antonio’s face lit up with a brilliant smile. He decided right then that he would put his full trust in Arthur, and shuffled forward with anticipation. “I can go see him?”

“Soon.”

“Thank you.” Antonio gasped in relief. If nothing else Arthur felt sorry for the poor bastard, and angry that João had left someone so blatantly helpless, and optimistic, alone on his travels. He did not wish to know how he got so far without any money, but he knew Antonio could not manage the journey to his brother alone.

“I will escort you to your brother’s shop.” Arthur decided. As expected Antonio showered him with gratitude, but then slipped face first into a pile of regret.

“I cannot pay you.” He mumbled, hanging his head. “Will I be taken away?”

Arthur shook his head. With a loud rip he then tore all of Antonio’s details from the notepad, and crumpled them into a ball. “I’m letting you off, just this once.”

“You are so kind!!” Antonio near on yelled in shock. “I-I cannot… I don’t know-”

“You’re welcome.” Arthur smiled softly, and gestured for Antonio to follow him out.

 

* * *

 

 The conductor wasted no time in hounding Arthur. He wanted to see Antonio beaten and set in cuffs, just for being his happy self, but to his horror Antonio remained at ease, and wandered behind a smirking Arthur.

“What is your verdict, Constable?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Arthur mocked, stopping before him. “I declare that this man is innocent, and that you are a bloody fool.”

“Excuse me?!” The conductor sprayed as usual, and jabbed a finger towards Antonio. “He should be arrested!”

“Why? He has done nothing wrong.”

“He had no ticket-”

“His ticket is right here!” Arthur barked, shoving the ball of paper hard against his forehead. “The poor bloke can barely speak a word of English, but if you had taken the time to ask nicely, and be patient, you might have fucking found it!”

“U-Understood.” The conductor stammered, wincing as Arthur swiped his hand away, and shoved the paper into his trouser pocket. “Forgive me-”

“Out of the way.” Arthur commanded, leading Antonio off the train. They walked as far as possible from the dreaded conductor, and the cowardly driver hiding in the front carriage, and right out the station to the safety of the streets.

Only when they were there did Arthur drop his act at last, and laugh about the whole charade. “What a right mess that was!”

“I did not have a ticket.” Antonio reminded him. “You lie.”

“Sometimes it’s necessary.” Arthur reasoned. “But so as long as you live here, tell the truth, understand?”

Antonio considered it for a minute, and nodded. His lovely warm smile soon returned, and he continued to trail after Arthur down the street. “Then, I can tell you what I think?”

“Of course.” Arthur shrugged. “Is it about those men?”

Antonio shook his head softly. Without a word he then stared across the road, watching a pair of older policemen laugh and stroll along. “I was thinking… You look handsome in your clothes.”

“I-I don’t think you meant that word!” Arthur blurted. His outburst was about as subtle as a punch to the face, whilst Antonio walked with all the sweetness in the world.

“I think I do. You look good.” Antonio continued, tapping a finger to his chin. “I would like a man like you-”

“Okay we’re leaving.” Arthur ordered, hurrying Antonio along. Even if he rather liked hearing Antonio’s truths, he had no concept of tact or awareness. He praised too boldly, and too loud, and the sooner he was tucked up safe in João’s shop, the better.

“I’ll visit you often.” Arthur promised. “But only if it would please you.”

“I will like that.” Antonio replied, forever cheerful.

 


End file.
